


The Best of Everything: Thirteen Ways Paige McCullers Gets a Happy Ending

by speakpirate



Series: Thirteen Things [1]
Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakpirate/pseuds/speakpirate
Summary: A whole story of possible futures where Paige gets to be happy and no queer women die.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _This story is part of a series that I'm working on to celebrate International Fan Works day this year. I wasn't planning to post until next month, but today feels like a pretty dark day, and I thought maybe we could all use some positive feelings._
> 
> _Also, this story was much improved by the feedback and suggestions that lco123 was kind enough to offer on an early draft - so huge thanks are in order for that._
> 
>  
> 
> \------

I.

She’s had enough of Rosewood and enough of California. She heads to Florida, gets a job with one of the big swimming academies down there. She works hard, coaches a few kids who make it to the Junior Olympics. 

She keeps at it, builds her reputation. Her bosses notice, bump up her salary accordingly.

She’s smart with money, invests her earnings, puts in an offer to buy the place when the owner starts to talk about retiring.

Two of the kids from the Junior Olympics make it onto the National Team. Win medals in every color.

Sports Illustrated interviews her. It’s a small piece, but the coverage gets even more talented swimmers vying for a spot in her program.

It still niggles her that she never got to compete in the Olympics herself, but she trains twenty-three American gold medalists before she retires. Walks with them in the Opening Ceremonies, watching the torch bob far ahead.

When she gives up coaching, Sports Illustrated puts her on the cover, calls her the Godmother of American Swimming. Even though she never had kids herself, the swimmers she’s trained are like family. She has framed pictures of them hanging on the walls of her condo. Most still send flowers and cards on her birthday, treat her to lunch whenever they’re in town. 

She swims the English Channel at age seventy, in twelve hours flat. At seventy two, she swims from Havana to Key West. At seventy five, she swims across all five of the Great Lakes over the course of the summer.

An eager young journalist interviews her that winter for People Magazine. There’s a book contract in the works.

“Do you have any regrets?” the reporter asks.

“Not a one,” Paige answers. “I did everything I wanted to, the whole way through.”

\------------------------------------

 

II. 

It’s the second day of a big charity tournament, the Philadelphia Women’s Field Hockey League is battling it out against Baltimore. The game is rough and dirty. Paige has scored two goals, she’s in the zone. 

She’s about to take another shot when a stick presses against the back of her left knee, hard enough to bring her down. The body of an opposing player lands on top of her. Smart. Make it look like an accident. 

“McCullers,” Spencer Hastings says with a smirk as she dusts herself off, helps Paige to her feet.

Later, Paige is standing in front of her locker buttoning her flannel over a white t-shirt and jeans. She nods to a few of her team mates who are heading out for celebratory drinks. Just as the door starts to swing closed behind them, Spencer pushes her way in.

Paige cocks an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know how they did things at Georgetown, but at Stanford if a girl snuck into your locker room after the game, it usually meant - “

“I didn’t sneak,” Spencer says as she gives Paige a small shove back into the lockers. “But it meant the same thing at Georgetown,” she admits, leaning forward and kissing her hard. 

They go to dinner afterwards. Paige insists, even though she half-expects Spencer to decline. She already got what she wanted, and it probably wasn’t for the two of them to sit across from each other in a diner making awkward small talk.

Spencer is working to rebuild the DNC from the ground up. Paige is working for the Philadelphia YWCA to develop an after school swimming program for low income kids. She completed her first triathlon last fall. Spencer visited Aria in Boston and ran the marathon last year. It’s a little surprising how much they have to say to each other. 

“So,” Paige says, finally. “Emily and Alison. Seem to like Boulder.”

“They do,” Spencer agrees. “Ali plays piano in a jazz combo and Emily’s taken up rock climbing and they take cooking classes together. They have two cats and no problems.” 

“What’s their secret, right?”

“They must go to therapy like five times a week.”

“Yeah. That, or Alison’s slipping roofies into her drink every night.”

Spencer laughs so hard it’s almost a snort.

“Probably not, though,” Paige deadpans.

“Probably not,” Spencer agrees. “I mean, of course I’m glad that Emily’s happy. And Alison, being with Em turns her into the best possible version of herself. But sometimes it makes me feel like, I don’t know, like I should be doing better.”

“Spence, this is actually one of those things that isn’t a competition. There’s no finish line. I wasn’t in it nearly as deep as you were, and I still have nightmares.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” Spencer says ruefully. “I never sleep.”

When the check comes, they both try to grab it, resulting in a small tussle.

“I asked you.” Paige says, flatly.

“But I once accused you of being a sociopathic killer, so dinner is on me for like, the rest of time.” Spencer states. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

“Come on,” Paige scoffs. “You’re not really in with Spencer Hastings unless she’s accused you of murder.” 

She places her hand over Spencer’s, which is on the check. “Anyway, I have an idea. I pay for dinner, you pay for breakfast.”

A smile plays around the corners of Spencer’s mouth. “A big breakfast, okay?”

“Lots of carbs,” Paige grins.

\-----------------------

 

III. 

Getting over Emily Fields isn’t easy. It was hard enough in high school. It nearly killed her in college. The third time Emily breaks her heart, Paige realizes she has a problem.

She musters up her courage and goes to a meeting. 

The library basement is packed with women.

One by one, they stand and speak.

Suddenly it’s her turn. “My name is Paige, and I have an Emily Fields problem.”

“Hello, Paige,” the room echoes.

“I did it again,” a blonde named Sabrina confesses. “I went over to the loft with a basket of muffins. She wasn’t even home! Hanna Marin is going to eat them, and then Emily will never know how much I love her!”

“You can’t go see her like that,” Sara Harvey cautions, slouching in her chair. “I had to fake my own death because I couldn’t break out of bad relationship patterns.”

“Same,” says Maya St. Germain, waving from the corner. 

“I left my husband and broke at least three laws just to ride bikes with her,” Talia announces. “I feel your pain!”

At the end of the meeting, Paige is swarmed by a bunch of women in Habitat Haiti shirts.

“Do you play softball?” one of them asks.

“You look like a third baseman,” another one adds, sizing her up. “We could really use another power hitter.”

“Don’t overwhelm the new girl,” a perky blonde says, shooing the softball team away. “Ignore them. They have a big game against Kristen Stewart’s exes next week.”

“Thanks,” Paige says, gratefully.

The blonde girl smiles. “Have we met? I’m Samara.” She holds out her hand. “How about we grab a cup of coffee?”

\-------------

 

IV. 

She’s leaving one of her endless knee-related appointments at the Bone and Joint Center when she comes across a pretty brunette sitting on a bench outside. Her right leg is in a metal brace.

“Excuse me,” the woman says, politely. “Do you have a cell phone? I can’t get a signal, and it looks like my fiancé forgot he was supposed to pick me up.”

Paige shakes her head. “Service out here is really bad. Which way are you heading? I can give you a ride.”

Her new friend smiles brightly as she uses a crutch to pull herself up into a standing position. 

“Yvonne Phillips. Car accident.”

“Paige McCullers. Same.”

Yvonne insists on taking her to lunch as a thank you. She tries to call her boyfriend after they order, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“He isn’t terrible all the time,” Yvonne sighs. “It’s just - he has this group of friends, and when he’s around them, it’s like he forgets I even exist.”

“Sounds like my ex-girlfriend,” Paige says, sympathetically. “Except she also had a serious case of Never Got Over Her First Love.”

Yvonne nods. “I’m starting to think we have a lot in common.”

A week later, Paige swings by The Grille to pick up some take out, and sees Yvonne sitting alone at a candlelit corner table. Paige hesitates for a second, then heads over.

“The forgetful fiancé strikes again?”

“It’s like he has relationship amnesia,” Yvonne confirms, pouring two glasses of wine. “Care to join me?”

They exchange numbers after dinner. Paige doesn’t know many people who are still in town. Or, more accurately, people who are still in town and not friends with Emily. She starts seeing a lot more of Yvonne, who also doesn’t know many people in town, except her absentee boyfriend. Her leg is still on the mend, so they spend a lot of time in her apartment. They play chess and Yvonne curates a mini-marathon of old Tonight Show episodes hosted by Joan Rivers. Paige teaches Yvonne how to knit. By the time she’s finished her first (only slightly lumpy) scarf, she’s not wearing her ring anymore. 

Yvonne loops the scarf around Paige’s neck to pull her closer, kisses her softly on the mouth. 

\-----------

 

V. 

Her orthopedic surgeon calls. There’s a new procedure that could help with the damage in her knee. Get that last ten percent back.

The surgery lasts 45 minutes. Then rehab for three months.

She clocks a personal best, a time that would be a state record, her first time back in the pool.

All that time training with the bum knee. Now that it’s repaired, she’s faster than ever. 

Fast enough to qualify for a spot at Nationals. Fast enough to leave a former silver medalist gasping in her wake.

Fast enough to get her on the top podium with tears in her eyes as the Star Spangled Banner plays. Fast enough to win two more golds, a silver and a bronze by the times the games are over.

She comes home and finds herself on the front of a Wheaties box and the cover of Out Magazine. The mayor of Rosewood calls, they want to have a parade. Maybe rename the high school after her.

She chuckles to herself. Wonders if Alison DiLaurentis is still teaching there.

\-------------------

 

VI. 

The knee never gets better. She’s always going to be ten seconds behind the best times in the world. Long enough for those girls to be out of the pool by the time she hits the side.

Fortunately she still got an Ivy League degree out of it. Turns out lots of media outlets are willing to take a chance on a Stanford grad with a degree in Communications. It’s not glamorous. High school football game of the week. Local seventy year old runs his first marathon. She’s doing a story on a water aerobics class when she spots a lap swimmer in distress, rips off her microphone pack and jumps in to rescue him. She gets him into a cross shoulder carry and her producer helps to heave him out of the pool. They do CPR and manage to bring him around just as the ambulance arrives.

The camera is still rolling as she lambasts the life guard captain, who - as it turns out - isn’t certified. Further investigation reveals none of the personnel at the facility were safety trained, as the head of the organization was skimming money and cutting corners to cover it up.

The video goes viral, and the investigation wins a broadcasting award. 

She lands her own show. McCullers on the Case. They launch a series on “Predators Among Us: Rape Culture in Rosewood” that exposes several police officers and a former high school English teacher for involvement with teenaged girls.

Veronica Hastings takes her to lunch, asks her if she’s thought about running for Mayor.

\------------------

 

VII. 

Paige has been back in California for two months when she signs up for an Asian cooking class. She meets her future wife while learning how to make Pad Thai with Tofu. Her name is Heather and she wins Paige over with her extreme thoughtfulness. She sends Paige flowers just to brighten her day, leaves books of poetry under her pillow, celebrates their anniversary every month.

They date for just over a year before moving in together. They plan elaborate vacations, ones that involve snorkeling or parasailing or skydiving. The world is full of new adventures for them. They adopt two kittens, which turns into three because they were part of the same litter and Heather couldn’t bear to leave one all alone. They talk about the future like it’s a solid destination, a place that looks quite similar to the present, but with the addition of a joint savings account, a house, two kids.

Paige sits on their couch, her slippered feet in Heather’s lap as they read in front of the fire, and she thinks: _This is real. This is what the long haul is about._

She doesn’t think about Rosewood. She throws away the alumni newsletter unread, looks the other way in the checkout line whenever Hanna Marin is on the cover of Vogue. 

Once in awhile they’ll be an article in the paper, a Lifetime movie or a Dateline special, about Rosewood’s Pretty Little Liars. Paige never watches them. She changes the channel at the first sign of sirens and police tape. Feels grateful for the life she has, for its steady love, its even keel.

\---------------- 

 

VIII. 

She runs into Mona Vanderwaal at the National Gay and Lesbian Taskforce conference. Paige is there with a group of kids from Rosewood High’s LGBTIAQ student group. Mona is giving a presentation on a new anti-bullying initiative.

They meet up for drinks, which turns into dinner and drinks, which turns into Mona giving her a coy look and sliding her hotel room key across the table.

What could have been a one night stand turns into a casual affair. Seeing each other whenever they happen to be in the same place. Which grows into making actual plans to put themselves in the same place. As often as possible.

Eventually, Mona buys a house in Rosewood. She still travels a lot, but she can work from anywhere. Paige moves in, discovers how much she enjoys sharing a bed with Mona that isn’t in a hotel room. It’s theirs. Everything is theirs. Their bath towels, their waffle maker, their bookshelves.

It works. Paige is so grounded, she balances Mona’s tendency towards hyper-adrenalized reality. And Mona is so driven and intelligent, so full of plans and ideas, they never get bored. One of these plans involves children, which Paige is over the moon about. 

Every now and then they have Emily and Alison over for brunch, watch the kids play together on the lawn.

\-------------------------

 

IX.

She’s at Stanford for Alumni Weekend when she finds herself at the same table as Missy Franklin. Who, it turns out, has actually been to Rosewood. 

“I met this girl there, Emily something.”

Paige sighs. Of course she did.

They exchange numbers. Paige is hoping to convince her to come and give a motivational speech to the Sharks. 

She shows up right before the State Meet, even stays to watch how they do.

“They’re lucky to have you,” she tells Paige. “You could coach anywhere.”

Paige shrugs. “I like it here.”

They go out that night to the Rosebud, where they dance and drink until the bar closes down.

Missy wakes up the next morning tangled in Paige’s sheets.

“You know what? I like it here too.”

\-------------------------

 

X. 

It takes him long enough, but her dad really comes around. The Sunday after Trump wins, Paige is sitting in a hard backed pew listening as he gives a sermon titled, “God’s Love is Equal” about how important it is to love thy neighbor - neighbors of all creeds and religions, all colors and genders, all ages and sexual orientations.

He gives it with as much passion as his old hellfire and brimstone speeches. He’s always been good at putting the fear of God into people. Paige remembers being convinced she was sinning if she left her bike unlocked. The entire congregation leaves convinced that bigots will burn for all eternity. 

Paige helps organize the church clothing drive for refugees. She starts an outreach program to help homeless LGBT youth in Philadelphia. She works with the choir director to plan a joint Christmas concert with their regular choir, the Gay Men’s Chorus, and a local Baptist church with gospel choir that brings down the house. She starts a Christian Feminist book club, spearheads a weekly mindfulness meditation with the local Buddhist Temple, and oversees a series Interfaith Potluck Dinners where they learn about kosher and halal foods. She gets approved to be a foster parent, to give kids in state care a safe and loving placement. 

When her dad starts having heart trouble and the doctor tells him he needs to slow down, the church elders approach Paige about taking his place. 

The day of her first sermon, the Ladies Guild hangs a rainbow flag over the church door, with a banner underneath that says, “All Are Welcome.”

Her dad puts an arm around her shoulders and furtively wipes his eyes.

It's the first time she's ever seen her father cry.

“I love you, Paige,” he says. “And I couldn’t be more proud of you.” 

\---------------------------

 

XI. 

Paige is biking down Main Street when she hears the first shot. She swerves into the alley next to The Brew and immediately hits the ground. As the rapid bursts of gunfire continue, she stays low and army crawls behind a dumpster to take cover.

There’s shouting nearby, the sound of windows shattering up and down the street. Then nothing. Only silence. 

When the sirens scream towards the square, she still doesn’t move. She counts five minutes. Ten.

Eventually, she makes her way to the mouth of the alley and peers out to survey the damage.

Sergeant Maple is barking a situation report into his radio a few feet away. “One of the rookies,” he says angrily. “Snuck off for a smoke break in the ammunition locker. Blew out the side of the station and sent bullets raining down all over the square. Multiple casualties. Repeat, multiple casualties.” He shakes his head.

Bodies are scattered all over the square. 

Jason DiLaurentis is bleeding on the sidewalk, shirtless and semi-conscious. “My abs,” he mutters. “My abs should have….protected me.”

“This one looks bad,” one of the paramedics says, heaving Lucas Gottesman onto a stretcher. 

“S’okay,” he says, weakly. “I’m rich.”

She looks around wildly, hoping to see someone she might be able to help. She hears a wheezing cough from a nearby park bench.

“Coach Thomas?” she says, shocked. “What are you doing here? You died, like, seven years ago!”

He’s coughing up blood, but he still takes a moment to give her a once over, his eyes glassy as he ogles her breasts. “Get with the program, McCullers. Extreme heterosexuality saves a dude every time.” He spits up more blood, unphased. “Takes more than strangulation, a broken neck, and a gunshot to the head to kill -” His voice trails off into a gurgling death rattle.

“Paige!” a voice calls. She turns and sees Ezra Fitz prone on the grass a few feet away. She rushes to his side.

“I need you to do something,” he says, clutching at his gaping chest wound. “Please. Tell Ariel I love her.”

“Aria,” Paige says. “Of course. She knows.”

“No,” Ezra says, grimacing with the effort. “Ariel. The new barista. She should be - in homeroom - now.”

“Are you serious?” Paige demands. “How old is she? Fifteen?”

“Fifteen - and a half,” he croaks, as the medics arrive with a gurney. “Don’t judge me! I’m a martyr!”

Paige heads back to the alley. There’s nothing she can do here.

She picks up her bike. It’s all really sad, she thinks as she pedals away. But it’ll probably be great for her character development.

\------------------------------------------

 

XII.

She’s been the swim coach at Rosewood High for a year and a half when Alison DiLaurentis appears at the door of her office.

“I need a favor,” Alison says, flatly.

“From me?” Paige asks, before she can help herself.

Alison rolls her eyes. “It’s for Hamlet.” The school play. She didn’t know Alison was involved with that, though it makes sense. She’s always been a good actress.

“What do you need?”

“Stage fencing lessons. Those kids are going to poke someone’s eye out.”

“I’m the swim coach.”

“You’re the gym teacher. And someone told me you did intramural swashbuckling or whatever in college.” 

Someone being Emily, of course.

Alison puts up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I know we have a lot of history. I was a miserable person and I wanted everyone else to be miserable, too. But right now can we please pretend I’m just a regular work colleague who needs your help? Instead of focusing on our joint membership in the Emily Fields Ripped My Heart Out sorority?”

Paige raises her eyebrows. They broke up, then. Part of her feels maliciously delighted by this news. If she doesn’t get to be with Emily, at least Alison doesn’t get her happily ever after, either. She tries to tamp that feeling down, to be a better person.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Paige spends the better part of three nights helping with the blocking for the fight scenes. They finish on a Friday, and Alison orders pizza. The whole cast hangs out to eat after rehearsal. It’s fun. Enough fun that she agrees to help with the set construction over the weekend. She’s using a drill to bracket two of the flats together for the castle backdrop when Alison walks by with a bucket full of paint brushes. Alison pauses for a moment, gives her a look that takes in her work boots and her jeans with a hole in the knee, her white t-shirt and the flannel tied around her waist.

“What?” Paige asks, bracing for a cutting remark about her lack of fashion sense.

Alison shakes her head and looks away quickly. “Nothing,” she says. “Thanks for doing this.”

Paige watches Alison DiLaurentis hurry away. _Blushing._

At the end of the day, after the students have all gone, Paige stays to help clean up. When they’re finally done, Alison slumps into one of the seats in the back of the auditorium, exhausted. Paige collapses into a seat at the end of the row and looks at the stage. The castle looks fantastic, ominous and forbidding.

“It’s perfect,” Paige says. “You’d be surprised if there wasn’t a ghost on the ramparts.”

“This is Rosewood,” Alison replies. “There are ghosts everywhere.”

“Did she really rip your heart out?”

“She didn’t mean to.”

“It’s Emily. She never means to.”

Alison laughs, not her old mean laugh, but a new one that’s mostly making fun of herself. “Isn’t that the truth,” she agrees. “I should get going. The sitter -”

Paige stands up to let her through, but it turns out to be more awkward as Alison has to squeeze past her to get through to the aisle. They lock eyes as Alison’s body brushes against her and the moment feels heavy with impossible possibilities.

They lean towards each other slowly, until she can’t say for sure whether she kissed Alison or Alison kissed her, but she has a hand in Alison’s hair and Alison’s tongue is in her mouth and it feels so electric she’s actually a little weak in the knees.

“I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea,” Paige says when they finally break apart.

Alison laughs again and pulls her closer. 

“Bad ideas are my favorite kind.”

\----------------------------

 

XIII. 

Paige is taking a long last walk around Rosewood at sunset. The orange hues in the sky reflect turn the rusting factories a deep ochre. The smell of burning leaves is in the air. Or...burning something.

She sees smoke wafting out of the broken skylight of the abandoned doll making plant.

She dials 911 immediately on her satellite phone, then moves closer as she hears what sound like screams coming from inside.

Paige is standing immediately in front of the door when a hooded figure bursts out and bowls into her. Her elective in Krav Maga pays off, as she rolls on top of them and delivers a brutal groin kick followed by a hammer fist strike to the face.   
She stands up, just as the masked assailant pulls out a knife and tries to slash Paige’s leg. She kicks it out of his hand and stomps on his gloved fingers, which make a nice crunching sound under her boot. Then she whips a taser out of her pocket and unleashes 1500 volts straight to his chest.

He’s still convulsing on the ground when she pulls a .38 special out of a concealed shoulder holster. “Stay down,” she orders. 

That’s when they both hear the sirens. He makes a quick move to grab the knife again, and she fires a shot that lands two inches from his right ear. He freezes and puts his hands on this head.

Emergency personnel are arriving on scene. Barry Maple handcuffs her captive, hauls him to his feet. He pulls down the hood. 

“It’s Doctor Kingston,” he exclaims. “No, wait, it’s Jason DiLaurentis in a Dr. Kingston mask! Hang on...it’s Detective Wilden in a Jason DiLaurentis mask underneath the Kingston mask! Geez, no, it’s -”

He’s still pulling off masks as he loads ‘A’ into the squad car. The fire department is still running out their hoses when Paige hears more screaming from inside the building.

“Someone’s in there!” she shouts. She yanks at the door, which seems to be stuck fast, swollen with the heat of the flames.

She steps back a few paces, then runs at the door, crashing into it full force, all her weight on her shoulder. The whole frame gives way, crumbles into burning cinders. The interior of the space is dark and filled with smoke, but she can make out Emily and her friends stumbling towards her, coughing violently and covered in soot.

Paige takes off her flannel and wraps it around her face, then moves towards them to help support Spencer, who seems to be unconscious from smoke inhalation. She helps Aria and Alison drag Spencer outside, then rushes back in to help Emily get Hanna - who seems to have a broken ankle - to safety.

They make it to the sidewalk just as the ceiling of the building collapses entirely.

Spencer is coming around, in time to watch Detective Tanner elbow Officer Maple out of the way.

“It’s Melissa Hastings! No, wait, it’s that Lucas kid in a Melissa Hastings mask! No, it’s Ezra Fitz in a Lucas mask - ”

They get Hanna over an ambulance, and then Emily turns to Paige breathlessly.

“Paige, you saved us,” she says, swooning. “You captured A. You saved us all!”

She throws herself into Paige’s arms and kisses her furiously.

Paige breaks the kiss gently and takes a step backward.

“What are you doing?” Emily asks, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “This is our moment. Our endgame!”

“I’m tired of games,” Paige tells her. “I don’t want you to choose me out of gratitude, just because I stopped your omniscient unkillable stalker. Emily, you’ve had a hundred chances to choose me for me. And you never did.”

“That was then,” Emily insists. “This is a whole new world! We can be together free and clear! In a world without A!”

“We tried that,” Paige reminds her. “In California. You came hurtling back into my life and then ghosted two weeks before the National Team trials.”

“The timing wasn’t right then,” Emily persists. “But maybe it is now.”

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” Paige says. “I’m leaving. My flight is in a few hours.”

“But,” Emily replies, stunned. “I think I might really love you.”

Paige feels tears welling in her own eyes. “You were my first love. That part of me is yours forever. But - we aren’t kids anymore. I can’t live my whole life waiting for you to decide if I’m the one. If I was - the truth is you’d already know. We both would.” 

“Are you saying you don’t want this?” Emily asks.

“I’m not saying it’s an easy choice,” Paige tells her. “But I choose me.”

She kisses Emily goodbye one last time, and turns away from the flashing red and blue lights. 

Emily watches as Paige walks off into the sunset.


End file.
